


A Thousand Lifetimes

by Uriel_Ignatius121



Series: Love Like a Hurricane [14]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, An annoyingly large amount of pronoun usage, F/M, M/M, Purgatory, Purgatory Sex, Rebirth, Reincarnation, Self-Harm, Temporary Character Death, Weird POV, inspired by Greek and Egyptian mythology, other characters are vaguely mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 20:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17753039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uriel_Ignatius121/pseuds/Uriel_Ignatius121
Summary: He was going to die.His time was near, he can feel it.In the dull aches of his bones, in his withering muscles, in the faraway voices of his family;He was an old man now, had ‘lived his life’ some would say.It was a modest life, a son of a merchant turned into a soldier when he became of age.When the war was done he bought a farm, then he started a family. A simple life for a simple soul.But deep down, he felt like he didn't deserve this.He prays that the Cycle accepts his tired soul and grant him safe passage to the Afterlife.---------------He is to live a thousand lifetimes, one for each mortal human being killed during the Great Storm,  a catastrophe he created.The God of the Sky and the Winds had his divinity taken away and banished from the Heavens. His betrothed, the God of the Waters and the Seas, watches over him and guides his lover through the Cycle.





	A Thousand Lifetimes

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while and got inspired to finally put it down. More notes regarding this AU [here](https://https://cooler-than-space.tumblr.com/tagged/a-thousand-lifetimes-au)
> 
> I know the style is really off-putting and frustrating, and I'm sorry about that - I'm just testing things out and it is just for the first chapter
> 
> I welcome any form of constructive criticism.
> 
> ... Also Virtual kisses to those who can guess which Character is which god/goddess!
> 
> The first Chapter is from Shiro's POV - or one of Shiro's past lives'  
> The second will be in Lance's POV.

.

.

  


He was going to die.

 

His time was near, he can feel it.

 

In the dull aches of his bones, in his withering muscles, in the faraway voices of his family;

 

He was an old man now, had ‘lived his life’ some would say.

  


It was a modest life, a son of a merchant turned into a soldier when he became of age.

When the war was done he bought a farm, then he started a family. A simple life for a simple soul.

  
  


But deep down, he felt like he didn't deserve this.

 

He prays that the Cycle accepts his tired soul and grant him safe passage to the Afterlife.

 

.

 

When he was still strong enough to speak, he made a small request on how his last days on this earth should be spent.

 

It was a simple request and his loving family obliged him: He wished to see the Ocean once more.

  


He was the son of merchants, born on a boat on their way to a new country.

He recalls his mother talking about how the Captain said he was ‘ _Blessed by the Sea_ ’.

 

But as the war intensified, they moved further into the west, further into the Mainland.

Even when the war ended and the Time of Peace came, he hasn’t seen the Eastern Shore since he was a little boy.

  


But those bluer than blue waters and sparkling white sands were always in the back of his mind, in his dreams, like a song whose words are incomprehensible - always calling out to him, like a long lost lover.

  
  


He is jostled away from his recollections by a really nasty cough.

 

There are murmuring voices around him, talking about calling a carriage. Some voices argue and cry.

 

The voices tell him that he might not survive a days travel, that they should just stay at home and call a physician.

 

He squeezes his wife's hand - he never realized he was holding on to her hand this whole time - he wanted to say that he didn't care, it didn't matter…

 

The Ocean calls him with their Siren Song and he must answer that call. It was a deep longing to, an urge.

 

His gentle wife squeezes his boney hand in return and the family begins planning their trip to the Eastern Shore.

 

.

 

He feels the strong hands of his grandchildren lift him off his bed.

He can barely see their faces, can barely recall their names.

He was settled down on a rickety woven chair that was fitted with wooden wheels.

 

He can smell his wife’s sweet perfume as she drapes his favorite blanket over his old shoulders. The blanket was thin and gray, stitched with dulling yellow star-shaped patches.

 

He grunts in pain as he was wheeled into the horse-drawn carriage.

Careful hands positioned him snugly by the wall of the carriage, his wife was on his immediate right and two of his sons sit in front of him.

 

He feels the carriage move, he remembers that it was at least a day and a half journey to the Eastern Shore. He closes his eyes and lets himself rest, just for a moment.

 

The sun was shining through the carriage door window, but the blanket wrapped around was keeping him cool and comfortable.

 

.

 

In his mind’s eye, he can still see vivid shades of blue and indigo weaved together intricately to form the blanket. He can still remember the sea salt smell that clung to every fiber.

 

He was given this blanket by a weaver who parked their cart next to his parents’ store.

 

He remembers that it was during a festival for the Patron god of the city.

 

There were bright blue and gold ribbons that were decorated on boats, people buying and selling candles and flowers that were to be set afloat as offerings.

 

He remembers the want to join in on the festivities but he was sick.

 

He remembers leaving the house to look for his mother, but he met the elderly weaver instead. They wrapped the beautiful pure blue-indigo blanket around his small form before sending him back inside, softly scolding him with a gentle voice.

 

He can remember his father’s shocked face to see the blanket and assumed his little boy stole it. After some talking with the elderly weaver, his parents let him keep it.

 

He had the blanket the whole time he was sick and when he got better he held on to it.

It was his treasured item.

 

He brought it when they kept moving. It was his only reminder that he once lived in a white stone house by the jewel blue ocean and breathed that salty breeze of the Eastern Shore.

 

He brought it with him when he fought the war. He was a mere foot soldier, assigned to protect the Western Border. Even then he thought that if he ever were to die during this war, he should be buried with his blanket.

 

May the Cycles allow him to bring this blanket to his next life and beyond.

  


The star patches on the blanket he got during the war, sewn in much later by a fellow soldier.

 

.

 

There was a younger soldier with him assigned to guard the gate at the Western Border.

The boy probably lied about his age just so he can enlist. He was far too naive but his accuracy with a bow must be why most turned a blind eye at his age.

 

The young soldier was skinnier than most and really didn’t like the cold nights; always begged to share that blanket, which had holes already and unraveled a bit at the edges.

 

The stone walls of the gate can only do so little protection all of them against the elements.

 

The thick forests around the Western Border were home to many bandits who caused trouble to many travelers.

 

The soldiers weren't tasked to actively hunt them down, just merely keep the integrity of the Border.

 

Seeing abandoned carriages and discarded carts of assorted goods are common further away from the gate.

  
  


One night, the young soldier was able to retrieve a few rolls of cloth and made thick blankets for everyone.

 

He relayed his story of being a tailor's son and was given apprenticeship - but his father's passing sent him packing to the nearest military camp.

  


He sang songs as he worked.

 

He would happily translate them to the rest of the squad.

 

His songs were about the various Gods of the Pantheon: from the eternally beautiful Goddess of Flowers and Prosperity and Her union with the proud God of Light; to the unusual friendship between the kind God of the Mountains and earth the mischievous Goddess of Invention. There was also a song about the Water God courting the Wind.

 

He said those were folk songs from his home which was in one of the colonized islands by the Eastern Shore.

 

The Colonies were the first to fall during the war.

  


When the young soldier looked at the blanket they shared, he asked if his older partner if he wanted it replaced.

 

He refused.

 

The young soldier asked again, but this time if he wanted it repaired.

 

He said please.

  
  


The blues and indigo colors of the blanket were now more pronounced with the addition of the bright yellow-gold star patches that were to cover up the holes.

 

The blanket he used to compare to the deepest waters looked more like the starry heavens above.

  


He remembers how sparkling the young soldier’s smile was as he thanked him.

  
  


Two nights later the Western Border was under attack.

  


The forests were lit aflame, like the God of Fire Himself cursed this land.

The Bandits even came to the soldiers’ aid.

 

Reinforcements came a day later when half of their squad was already dead.

 

When the enemy pulled back the King assigned his top general and his men to guard the Border.

The survivors of their squad were transported to the Capital to be treated by the best healers.

  


He never saw that young soldier again. He doesn't even remember if he lived or not.

  


\-- but those bluer than blue eyes and haunting songs was something he cannot forget, especially in his darkest nightmares of fire and bloodshed.

  
  


Nightmares that still haunt him even as an old man.

Nightmares that remind him constantly why in the olden days the War God was also the God of Death.

  
  


At the Capital, he slowly heals but only physically. His blanket, bluer than blue with yellow-gold stars, by his side.

 

He left the Capital as soon as he can. He traveled South and worked as a farmhand for a few years.

 

His employer was an elderly man who wished to move to the Capital to be with his daughter. The old man let him buy the land so he can keep tending to it and live nicely post-war.

 

He bought that land and tended to it well. He was able to make a good profit every harvest season, a part of each harvest was offered to the Pantheon.

 

He soon married the daughter from the neighboring town and startled a family. They weren’t a wealthy family and lived within their means.

  


Life during the Time of Peace was, as it should be, peaceful and quiet.

 

.

 

The journey to the Eastern Shore from the farm in the Southern Lands was quite uneventful. They made a stop to rest at Capital when Nightfall came and continued on when the barest hint of sunlight came upon them.

  


Even from the inside of the carriage, he can already smell the saltiness of the Sea.

 

He hums a song as the carriage comes to a halt. As the carriage door opens, he can hear the waves crashing rhythmically against the shore.

 

He is once again seated in his wheeled chair.

 

It wasn’t a very comfortable trip. The wheels dip into the sand, drive over rocks and shells.

  


He tries to keep his eyes open, to see those Majestic blue waters again.

 

The heaviness in his heart gets slowly washed away as he feels the cool water splash against his feet.

 

He is still seated in his woven wheeled chair, his blanket wrapped around him. His family sits on blankets by his side, all of them admiring the view.

 

He has heard of the stories, of the Eastern Shore being devastated by the War.

 

Gone were the pure white stone buildings by the Merchant’s Pier where his family used to set up shop.

The people who still live here have persevered, though; rebuilt their lives, brick by brick, and moved forward.

 

The Beauty of Humanity.

  


As the Sun sets behind them, the Sky and the Sea glow with hues of pink and purple.

  


His breathing grows slow and pained, but his limbs feel weightless.

  


He truly must be near death as he seems to be imagining things.

He gazes at the Sea as he bears witness to the water part and a tall figure emerges.

 

They were dressed in the finest robes that sparkle in the light and decorated with gorgeous precious stones and pearls, Their rich brown skin was decorated with bright blue markings shaped like swirls. Their face partially covered in a pure white veil.

 

This Being is otherworldly, he thinks to himself.

 

The beautifully divine Being was hovering slightly over the water as if the Sea parts for them out of respect.

 

Time feels like it has stopped.

 

The Waters are still and unmoving but he can still hear the waves crashing and rising.

The gorgeous Being approaches him.

 

He feels breathless as he sees those blue jewel-like eyes glow behind the veil.

 

Mesmerizing.

  


… but those eyes seem familiar.

  


The Being… a God? The God smiles at him, their lips move as if they were talking to him but he hears nothing but the sound of rushing water.

 

His vision gets darker as the beautiful God stands before him, their robes brush against his legs.

 

They are kneeling down now, but he can only see the blurred texture of Their veil.

 

Cold fingertips brush against his face, and soft lips are now pressed against his.

And with that, his last breath escapes him.

 

The Sun is now behind the mountains in the West, the Sky was now the shade of deep, deep blue and black.

 

A family weeps as the old man in his chair remains unmoving and still, a melancholic look on his aged face.

 

.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out both my tumblr accounts - my [main](https://silly-jilly-bean.tumblr.com) and my [writing](https://uriel-ignatius121.tumblr.com) one for updates on anything I'm working on...
> 
> I also have my [Shance side blog](https://cooler-than-space.tumblr.com) for anyone interested.
> 
> I am also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Silly_Jillybean), feel free to follow me there!


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